


possession

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Consent, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Possessive Behavior, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: The back of Kylo's neck prickled. The more he looked at the pair, the more something felt off. He was certain he didn’t know the blond man, but the other one felt familiar to him, and uncomfortably so. He stood watching for a moment longer, then, making sure no one was watching, vaulted over the railing. He had time.“I told you,” the slender one snapped, “don’t call me that.”The slender one, unmistakably, was General Hux.(Or, the one where Kylo and Hux both find themselves on Chandrila with lackluster dates for the local equivalent of Valentine's Day, a bit too much alcohol is imbibed, feelings are had, and animosity gives way to something else.)





	possession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hippydeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippydeath/gifts).



Kylo stood on a portico overlooking over the ocean at Junari Point and took a deep breath of the sea air. Behind him, the bar buzzed with activity—loud, but not loud enough to be anything more than a vague annoyance. The minds of the couples inside brushed against his; no one inside was more than loosely guarded with their emotions, and why should they be? It was a holiday—Terni’s Day, to be precise, a day that honored courtship and romance. According to Chandrilan tradition, it was considered good fortune to begin a relationship on Terni’s Day, and as such many couples waited for the holiday before they began any formal liaisons.

That Kylo would find himself there on that particular day was no accident. Inside sat one Lieutenant Davison, who was eagerly awaiting “Matt”’s return. Kylo shut his eyes. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Davison was attractive and—Kylo had thought—interesting. He’d shot an engineer at point-blank range without so much as blinking because the engineer had been found with Resistance propaganda. Kylo had liked that. He’d liked Davison.

He knew better now. For all that Davison was competent and skilled, he lacked— _something._ If pressed, Kylo might have said that Davison was simply too nice. He lacked an edge Kylo craved—needed. He may have been willing to kill anyone and anything that would get in the way of his mission—the continued supremacy of the First Order—but when it came to relationships, he might as well have been some doe-eyed teenager, blushing and stuttering. He’d brought _flowers_. Flowers were fine, just—not what he’d expected. Kylo liked when things went the way he expected them to go.

Kylo watched a flock of bulabirds run along the shore, their star-shaped bills pecking at rocks in search of prey. The sun glinted off of the water, and Kylo fancied he could see some of the fish that lurked just below the surface. Far out, just on the edge of the horizon, Kylo could make out a great fishing tanker. They’d be coming in soon; Chandrilan waters grew dangerous after dark, when the native klimtrits came up from the depths to feast. The tanker would hold up against one, but klimtrits hunted in packs of three, and while they mainly feasted on the fish the tankers were out to catch, they were quite fond of the taste of humans.

In the bar, Kylo sensed no impatience from Davison, merely an excited apprehension. He clearly thought the evening was going well and had clearly believed “Matt” when he said that he needed to cool off, get some air. It bothered Kylo more than it should have that Davison was abiding by the traditional Chandrilan courtship rules: he’d remained behind at the table rather than following him out. Kylo almost felt bad for him—almost. It had been Davison’s idea to come to Chandrila.

When Kylo was finished, Davison wouldn’t remember any of it. It was probably for the best that “Matt” disappeared anyway. It had been a pleasant, informative distraction, but the time for the ruse had passed. He’d resolved to go inside, drag Davison off and pull the memories of “Matt” with him, when he caught sight of something on the beach.

There were two figures arguing with each other down at the shoreline. One, blond and clean-cut, seemed to be holding his arms out placatingly, while the other, slender with a mop of dark hair, screamed back. Someone, Kylo thought, wasn’t having a very nice evening.

The back of Kylo's neck prickled. The more he looked at the pair, the more something felt off. He was certain he didn’t know the blond man, but the other one felt familiar to him, and uncomfortably so. He stood watching for a moment longer, then, making sure no one was watching, vaulted over the railing. Davison could wait another minute or so. Kylo could sense him thinking warm, romantic thoughts. He had time.

Kylo picked along the beach toward the couple. Their voices reached him soon enough. He’d been right: he didn’t know the blond man. The other, though…

“I told you,” the slender one snapped, “don’t _call_ me that.”

“Okay!” the blond one said. “Okay, I get it! But the dress was your idea, and—”

“Because I _like_ it, just like I _don’t like_ being called those heinous names!” the slender one spat. “You will never, _ever_ , refer to me as such again.”

The other one, unmistakably, was _General Hux_.

Kylo knew he should retreat before either party noticed him. He knew it was to the benefit of all involved that he not be, that nothing but trouble could come of his interference.

Hux didn’t give him the opportunity to do much other than stare. There was a short flash, and the blond dropped like a stone. Hux was holding something—Kylo couldn’t make it out clearly—but then he was turning, _looking for witnesses_ , Kylo thought.

Hux’s eyes zeroed in on him. Kylo regretted his curiosity instantly. He could have been back up at the bar, blissfully unaware of whatever had just occurred. Instead, he found himself rooted to the spot as Hux marched on him like a raging nexu.

“You,” Hux spat, accusatory. The effect was diminished somewhat by his outfit. He had on a wig, for one thing. While the black suited Hux just fine, the fit was just a little off, and it had slipped during his fight with his blond companion. He’d put on makeup—lipstick and blush at least, and Kylo thought there might be something on his eyelids. It was getting difficult to tell in the dark. He wore a pretty green dress with a gold belt at the waist and a gauzy wrap around his shoulders. The golden bangles hanging from his wrists clinked as he got up in Kylo’s face.

“What,” Hux asked, voice low, “are you _doing here?_ ”

Hux’s thoughts were open, nearly screaming at him—he was concerned about what Kylo had seen, about what he’d say.

“Leave,” Kylo said curtly. “Same as you, I imagine.”

In truth, Kylo could _not_ imagine it. He’d known Hux was on leave because he’d scheduled his own for a time when he wouldn’t be around to question it. The problem was the location: what business could Hux, notorious amongst loose-lipped (and often immediately transferred) officers for one-night stands and nothing more?

Hux squinted at him, his eyes flickering towards the city proper.

“You have a date?” Hux asked. There was no bite to his words, merely curiosity.

“Had,” Kylo amended.

“Don’t tell me you left some jilted lover in there to come bother me,” Hux said. Kylo shrugged. Let Hux think what he would. “You do know that the locals celebrate a holiday for _binding love_.”

“Of course I know that,” Kylo said, glaring. He looked over Hux’s shoulder at the collapsed blond fellow. “How’d that work out for you?”

“Poorly. Had I known he intended to bring me here, of all places, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet.” Hux adjusted his wig and succeeded only in making it look worse. “We ought to go. He’ll wake eventually.”

“Not dead then?”

“No, just stunned,” Hux said. He didn’t elaborate. Kylo bit back the urge to demand just what, exactly, he’d used on the stranger. Kylo hadn’t seen anything like it in the weapons archives.

“Are you going back up there?” Hux asked finally. Kylo nodded. “So you’ve found yourself a lifelong partner. How charming.”

Again, Hux’s usual acidity was completely absent. If nothing else, he sounded _bitter_.

“No,” Kylo said. “A mistake. I’ll fix it shortly.”

Hux stared. Uncomfortable and aware of their short window before the blond woke, Kylo turned away and headed up the beach toward the bar. If push came to shove, he could kill the blond, but it would be messy. If Hux wanted him dead, he could do it himself.

Hux, who was following him back up like some sort of stray dog who’d been given a scrap and now wanted more. Kylo vaulted over the railing of the portico just to prove that he could. Hux attempted to do the same; Kylo heard the sad huffs and puffs as he hauled himself over the edge, no doubt inelegantly.

He did not, as Kylo had half-expected, follow him into the bar. Instead, when Kylo looked back, he saw that Hux was leaning against the railing they’d just come over, looking out over the sea.

Kylo bit back a pang he hadn’t felt in quite some time. Lust was safe, lust was fine—but only directed at some. Hux was not one of them.

Inside, Davison was still there, eagerly awaiting “Matt”’s return.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, “I was starting to get worried.”

He wasn’t worried—Kylo could sense that much. He’d thought “Matt” had been so overwhelmed by his romantic gestures that he’d needed to take five to cool off.

“Hey,” Kylo said, barely taking the time to soften his voice into “Matt”’s. “Can we talk for a second?”

* * *

“Was that Lieutenant Davison?” Hux asked when Kylo returned. Leave it to Hux to pry into matters that didn’t concern him.

Kylo flexed his left hand against his thigh as he brushed past Hux.

“Ren?” Hux asked.

Kylo shook his head. He needed a moment. Venturing into someone’s thoughts was one thing, but memory alteration was something else. Maybe it was because Hux had thrown him off by just being there, in that dress and in that light. Maybe it was because, in spite of his shortcomings, Davison was a decent Lieutenant and an asset to the Order. Either way, Davison was now dancing with someone who looked passably similar—a blond local with a wide smile and freckles dotting his arms. Davison looked besotted, and the local was thrilled with the attention.

Kylo pulled the wig from the top of his head and ruffled his own hair. After a moment, he tossed it over the edge and into the sand with the pair of glasses that he’d had perched atop his nose.

“I was wondering when you’d take those off,” Hux commented.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Kylo muttered.

“What was that?” Hux asked.

“Nothing.” Kylo pushed off from the railing. He’d intended to go out for drinks, get a nice lay, and get back to work. That everything had run off the rails so spectacularly shouldn’t have surprised him, but it left him sour. Damn Davison and his inopportune romance, and damn Hux in _general_.

“Ren,” Hux called. His sandals were soundless against the stone. “ _Ren_.”

Kylo spun, and Hux nearly crashed into him. Up close, Kylo saw that he did have on eyeshadow, and eyeliner. The liner had smeared at the inner crease of his right eye. Kylo wondered how that had happened. He wondered, too, about the blond stranger and what he’d fought with Hux about.

“What?” Kylo questioned. Hux didn’t immediately respond, and Kylo made to leave once more.

“ _Wait_ ,” Hux said, speaking through his teeth. “This—” He cut himself off, clearly loathe to speak. Any other time, Kylo might have reveled in it. Now, he was just irritable.

“What?” Kylo asked again.

Hux spoke all at once, the words tumbling over themselves: “I’m willing to overlook your _deviancy_ if you’ll excuse—this.” Kylo stared openly, confused. “I know you masquerade as a _radar technician_ ,” Hux continued, lips curling in distaste around the words. “You fraternize with those below your rank. Provided you keep this quiet, I’m willing to do the same for you.”

That explained significantly less than Kylo thought Hux intended. He folded his arms and waited.

“ _The dress_ ,” Hux said finally, the words venomous. “ _You will tell no one about the dress_.”

Kylo hesitated, momentarily confused as to what was wrong with it before he remembered: the First Order had all of the old Imperial hang-ups about Human gendered clothing. He wondered where Hux had acquired the outfit. It appeared to have been tailored to fit him. He thought about arguing with Hux, threatening to unmask him—but it hit him all at once how _tired_ he felt. Inside, Davison was having the time of his life. If he didn’t wake up soon, a stranger would find himself dragged into the ocean and devoured by the local fauna. His evening had spiraled well and truly out of control.

“Agreed,” Kylo said. Hux opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it promptly. Evidently, he’d been waiting for Kylo to argue.

Kylo’s sudden fatigue kept him from leaving immediately, as did Hux’s silence. Someone had lit the torches along the portico while Kylo had taken care of Davison; the low light caught Hux’s bangles and made him shimmer. Kylo took in a deep breath and let it back out.

“Who was your,” Kylo asked, “friend?”

“Jermin?” Hux asked, nose scrunched. Kylo gathered that had been the man’s name. “No one. A bad decision.”

Kylo nodded.

“It’s a shame, though,” Hux said. He looked out to the sea, not that he could have spotted anything clearly. The sky and the sea had melded together as the sun disappeared. The stars would come out soon. Already the sea breeze had gone cold and firm. “He had the nicest cock.”

Kylo snorted. Beside him, Hux hung his head. Was he ashamed at the admission? He needn’t have been. It was a perfectly logical parameter for lust. Kylo had wondered, once, what Hux’s looked like.

 _Not now_ , Kylo thought. Not ever.

“There are others,” Kylo said at long last. He wasn’t sure why; the words simply rolled out without any thought behind them.

Hux laughed a little and said, “Few and far between.”

Something in the remark caught Kylo’s attention, and he watched as Hux slipped the wig from his head. His hair was a disaster, bent up every which way and full of static. In the dark, no one would notice—no one but Kylo, who’d never seen a single hair out of place. Hux was, after all, human. It was easy to forget, and hard now to face.

“And you?” Hux asked.

“Me?” Kylo parroted, confused.

“Davison didn’t strike me as your,” Hux hesitated, then carefully enunciated, “type.”

“He wasn’t,” Kylo said, then winced. “Too nice.”

Hux grinned in the dark. Kylo only knew because of the shine of his lipstick and the gleam of his teeth.

“I could have told you that,” he said.

“I didn’t know I could ask.”

“Now you do.”

In the wake of Hux’s statement, the pair fell silent. The bar behind them was growing louder as drinks were poured and the music picked up, but it did nothing to mask the constant rise and fall of the sea.

“I didn’t know you could alter memories,” Hux said, voice breaking through all else.

“I can,” Kylo said. He hesitated for a long moment, looking down to where his hands rested on the thin railing that separated the bar from the open shore. “It is challenging but possible.”

“Permanent?”

“Yes.”

Kylo waited for the inevitable question. Hux didn’t disappoint.

“Have you ever altered my memories?”

Kylo shook his head superfluously as he said, “No.” He could feel Hux’s gaze on him, heavy and piercing, but it was the truth. He hadn’t.

“What are you going to do now?” Hux asked.

“Go back up, I suppose,” Kylo answered.

“And call it a loss?” Hux glanced over his shoulder at the bar. “I’m sure someone in there would be willing to take you up on an offer.”

“I doubt it.”

Hux stared at him then, eyes serious. Kylo was struck by how _open_ Hux’s features were. He’d always been able to read his face without much in the way of difficulty. Here, now, in the low light of the torches and the stars above, was no different. Hux scrutinized him—no, more than that, Hux didn’t believe him.

“You must be joking,” Hux said finally. “You think—honestly, if you just wanted a decent fuck and someone to pull your hair, you can get it.”

“Why would I want someone to pull my hair?” Kylo questioned. It seemed the safest response. Hux’s cheeks flushed and he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. The point is, you’re an attractive specimen. You must know you have more options than poor love-struck _Davison_.” Kylo squinted at him. Hux stared, then said finally, “You really don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Kylo asked, somewhat defensive. “All the tourists have partners, and the locals are bound by tradition. There’s no one else, unless you’re thinking I’d trick someone into a lay.”

“Would you? Trick someone to—have sex with you, I mean. With the Force.”

“No.” It was the truth. Kylo could do many things, but unwilling seduction was not one of them.

Hux ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. Kylo could tell he was fighting with himself.

“I need a drink,” Hux said finally. He walked toward the bar. Kylo snagged his arm.

“Davison is still in there,” he murmured. “Keeping him from recognizing you will be difficult, even with your choice of disguise.”

Hux froze, then nodded.

“Right. Back to the hotel, then,” Hux said, as if to himself. He glanced at Kylo. “You’re welcome to join me.” He turned, his wrap slipping down his back as he moved, and headed away from Kylo. “I’ll buy.”

* * *

Hux’s dress was backless.

It was the most interesting thought in Kylo’s mind as he followed Hux through the dark and up the street. The hour was relatively early, all told, but a few revelers had already finished with dinner, eager to move onto the next phase of the evening. For most, it involved sex. Kylo envied them.

(Sex was all he wanted. Honest. _Honest_.)

“Here,” Hux said. He twisted the wig in his hands, then shoved it back onto his head. He turned to see if Kylo was there while he checked to see if his hair was fully covered.

“You look awful,” Kylo said. Hux glowered, and Kylo approached cautiously. “Like this,” he said. He tucked Hux’s short hairs up under the cap of the wig and rearranged the curls while Hux stood impatiently.

“Get a lot of practice with that?” Hux asked, voice acidic. Kylo didn’t think that warranted a response. He brushed past Hux, deliberately knocking his shoulder, and entered the hotel.

It was, in a word, _stark_. A far cry from the traditional splendor and opulence of Chandrila, it seemed to have been designed with Imperial tastes in mind. High-contrast black and white panels gave the lobby an illusion of depth, and mirrors caught Kylo’s eyes at every turn. Only the chandelier, a massive gold thing hanging from a high ceiling, and the stone floors, polished to a reflective shine, betrayed the money backing the place.

Beyond the reception desks, Kylo spotted the bar. It was a massive thing that took up most of the back wall and much of the rest of the space. The counter itself curved elegantly around the walls as if it had grown there naturally. Upon the black shelves in the back were row after row of bottles, lit from both above and below. The selection was impressive to say the least.

“You look like you’ve never been to a bar before,” Hux said, voice dry. In the interior light, Kylo could see Hux in full. The green was deeper than Kylo had thought, and the dress itself nearly sheer. Hux had something under it to preserve his modesty, but the illusion of true translucence was startling. His bangles were not solid gold but rather studded with little emeralds. His nails, carefully trimmed, had been painted, albeit in a very neutral shade.

Hux had the audacity to smirk at him. Kylo couldn’t help but burst his bubble.

“You smudged your liner,” Kylo said.

Hux’s grin faded as he cursed.

“Get me a Battic with lime and an extra shot of madhu,” he said, already hurrying away, presumably to the restroom.

Kylo couldn’t deny that he wanted a drink after all of this nonsense. He drifted through the crowd up to the counter. Getting a seat wasn’t difficult, nor was convincing the couple beside him to leave. He could have let Hux stand, but he’d been reasonably civil all evening. There was no reason to irritate him now, not when Kylo was tired and not in the mood.

“What can I get for you?” the barman asked. Kylo guessed he was Hassian; he looked Human enough, but the palpebra tertia was a giveaway.

“One battic, extra madhu, lime,” Kylo said, “and a Corellian vinu, no plire.”

“Ice?” the barman asked.

“No.”

“Coming right up,” he said, winking once. Kylo didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he traced over the countertop. The stone itself was remarkable only in its deep black color, but there was something inside of it—scarletite or adamantium, Kylo guessed. Given the price of adamantium, scarletite was the more likely candidate. It gave the counter a permanent chill; more importantly to Kylo, the stones resonated like the crackle of fire. He splayed one palm across the stone.

“Did you order?” Hux asked, coming up from behind him. He sank into his seat without so much as a thank-you.

“Yes,” Kylo said, not taking his eyes off of the counter.

“Something wrong?”

 _Everything_ , Kylo wanted to say. It was too dramatic, though, and he was saved from having to come up with something else by the return of the barman.

“Ah, I see you’ve a friend,” he said. “Are you the battic or the vinu, or something else altogether?”

“The battic, please,” Hux said. The barman handed him his drink before supplying Kylo with his own. As the he left, Hux cupped his glass and sighed.

“I’ve been dreaming of this all night,” he said.

Kylo grabbed his own drink and watched the fizzle and pop of the alcohol on top. He swirled it carefully before he brought the cup to his lips.

“Vinu?” Hux asked, nodding at his glass. Kylo hummed as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. “I’ve never tried it. What’s it like?”

Kylo stared at his vinu for a long moment, his reflection gazing back at him. Careful not to spill any, he slid the it towards Hux.

“It’s traditional to drink it with plire,” Kylo said, “but I find it too sweet.”

“I’m not a fan of sweet drinks myself,” Hux replied. “May I?” Kylo nodded once more, and Hux brought the glass to his own lips. Kylo watched as he drank. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Mm,” Hux murmured, eyes closed. “That’s good.” After a moment, he gestured for Kylo to try his battic.

“It’s all right,” Kylo said. “You don’t have to.”

“You let me taste, it’s only fair I let you do the same. Have you ever had one?”

“No,” Kylo answered honestly, staring at the green concoction. He didn’t have an aversion to strangely-colored liquors; he simply knew what he liked and kept to it. If Hux was offering, though…

“Well, the madhu adds a certain sour element,” Hux said, leaning against the counter, “and it ends spicy. It’s delicious, but if you’re not accustomed to the taste, I recommend starting with a sip.”

Tentatively, Kylo raised the glass to his lips and sipped.

As promised, it was sour. Kylo could taste the lime and the madhu first, the bitter thipse overwhelming the lingering vinu. The liquor seemed to scour his mouth, much like mint or axenthinine, but then there was that promised spice. Kylo felt the chill of the thipse melt into the intoxicating heat of the oliuma and yertol. It seemed to burn his throat and nose as he swallowed, and when it settled in his stomach, it warmed him from the inside out.

Kylo set the glass back down gently and found Hux watching him carefully.

“You have good taste,” Kylo murmured.

“In some things,” Hux replied. He took back his battic as Kylo took his vinu. Flushed, Hux took another sip and sighed, clearly pleased.

Kylo looked at his glass of vinu, specifically the spot where Hux had taken his drink. A little smudge of lipstick had stuck there. Kylo had the sudden urge to swipe at it with his fingers. He finished his vinu instead, drinking a little too fast.

“Doing all right down here?” the barman asked, appearing nearly out of nowhere. Kylo hadn’t heard him.

“Fine, thank you,” Hux said curtly. “We’ll take an Wiburian Hightail, two straws. Make it a triple.”

“Wiburian Hightail?” Kylo asked. He noticed that in the scant moments he hadn’t been paying attention, Hux had finished his battic. Kylo stared at the stem of the glass where Hux held it between his index and ring fingers.

“You’ll like it,” Hux said. “Trust me.”

Kylo pursed his lips. _Trust me_. He wished he hadn’t finished his vinu yet, if only so he’d have something to fiddle with to keep from saying anything rash. Thankfully, the barman quickly returned, not with a prepared drink but rather with a bowlful of accoutrements.

“Here we are,” he said, sliding the shallow bowl toward Kylo and Hux. Hux scooted closer, and the fabric of the dress caught on Kylo’s trousers. His bangles clinked invitingly as he propped his elbows up on the table to watch as the barman pulled the ingredients out of the bowl.

“Don’t get to do this very often,” the barman said conversationally, but neither Kylo nor Hux responded. The barman had a bottle of clear addipe, a smaller bottle of Thresan bitters, a lime, and a dark bottle with a label Kylo couldn’t read as it wasn’t written in Basic. The barman added half of the addipe to a metal cylinder, a spritz of the bitters, and a generous glug of the stuff from the dark bottle, capped it all, and shook it together. When he opened it up, purple fumes spewed from the top. Carefully, he poured the mixture into the bowl, extracted a knife from under the counter, and expertly peeled the lime. The rind he placed in the bottom of the bowl, and the fruit itself he tossed to someone else working behind the counter. He poured more of the liquor from the dark bottle around the edges of the bowl; Kylo watched as it collected on top, not mixing with the previous alcohol. Finally, with a flourish, the barman struck a match and held the flame to the surface.

The top burned with white flams and danced just before Kylo’s eyes. Beside him, Hux smiled and cupped his hands around the bowl. He gestured for Kylo to do the same.

The bowl felt frozen. Kylo glanced at Hux and found him watching him. Hux offered a half-smile. Kylo didn’t know whether or not he should reciprocate.

“Two straws,” the barman said, sliding them into the edges. They were long metal rods, fluted on the sides with reed-like ends. “Enjoy.”

Hux leaned forward first. The hair of the wig fell around his eyes as he took a sip of the drink through the straw, his eyes falling shut in bliss.

Careful of his own hair, Kylo did the same. The straw wasn’t as cold as the bowl, though it felt odd around his lips. He sucked lightly, and it was good that he did for the liquor filled his mouth almost instantly. It was not, as Kylo might have guessed, bitter; in fact, had he not seen the barman make the drink, he wouldn’t have thought it alcoholic. It tasted thick and woody, like fine whisky without the burn. He leaned back as he considered the flavor and watched as the flames died down and the purple smoke abated.

“Well?” Hux asked.

“It’s wonderful,” Kylo said. “What was that last bit?”

“Ghinsh,” Hux said. “It’s Arkansian in origin. When I saw they had it here, I knew I had to get this.”

“Ghinsh,” Kylo echoed. The word sounded wrong in his mouth.

“Close. ‘Guh’-‘uh’-‘insh’,” Hux said, enunciating carefully. “Three syllables.”

“Ghinsh,” Kylo repeated. Hux nodded and took another long drink from the concoction in the bowl.

It occurred to him in that instant that he wouldn’t have done this with Davison. He’d had to be cautious with the Lieutenant lest his disguise, flimsy as it was, slip. Here, with Hux, it was different. There were no pretenses here. Hux knew who he was and shared a drink with him anyway. Davison wouldn’t have done that.

Something settled low in Kylo’s gut. He doubted it was the alcohol.

“Something wrong?” Hux asked.

“Nothing,” Kylo answered, a bit too quickly. “I didn’t think this was how my evening would go.”

Hux stifled a chuckle and said, “Neither did I.” After a pause, he said, “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

Kylo froze, half-turned to Hux.

“You’re better company than Jermin,” Hux said quickly. He didn’t meet Kylo’s eyes.

“I would hope,” Kylo replied, “considering the circumstances.” Hux laughed again, this time openly. “Do you think he’s woken yet?”

“Probably,” Hux said, “if I didn’t miscalculate the charge.”

Kylo snorted, and Hux smiled. He pulled the bowl towards him just a little and hung his head over top, breathing in deeply.

“He couldn’t stand this,” Hux said, almost to himself.

“Oh?”

Hux hummed and said, “Only ever drank straight aspis.” Kylo wrinkled his nose. “My thoughts exactly. Anything else he considered too strong.”

Kylo stopped himself from asking the obvious questions: _Why did you put up with him?_ _How long had you known him? Did he know you—really know you? Did you care for him at all?_

It shouldn’t have bothered him. It didn’t. Really.

Hux sat up straight once more and rolled his neck. Kylo thought he heard his back pop, but that might have been the sound of a bottle opening from elsewhere along the bar.

“I’ve a mind to take this up to my room,” he said, tapping the side of the bowl.

“Room?” Kylo asked. The word had only just passed his lips when he remembered: Hux’s leave had been longer than a mere day. He would be returning to the _Finalizer_ soon—the next Chandrilan morning, most likely.

“Sixth floor. It’s got a lovely balcony. You could join me.”

It—Kylo was certain he wasn’t reading too much into the statement, and yet, from Hux? He had to be wrong. Hux was off-limits. Hux had _always_ been off-limits.

“I should go back,” Kylo said. “I’m only meant to be away this evening.”

“What, you think you’re going to get laid back on the _Finalizer_?” Hux asked. He stood smoothly. “Think about it for a few minutes. I’m room 662—corner suite.” He smirked, and while Kylo sat, flabbergasted, he made his way through the crowd toward the lifts on the far left wall, his hips swaying from side to side.

Kylo sat alone at the bar surrounded by strangers. The cold stone of the surface grounded him even as his mind threatened to scatter to the winds. The scarletite thrummed under his fingertips. The stone was pseudoempathic, he remembered. It responded to him. He licked his lips. Kylo wanted what Hux was offering—that was the problem. Someone like Davison, they could be replaced. Hux could be replaced, too, but—

Kylo shook his head. A replacement wouldn’t be Hux. The others were afraid. Fear had its uses, to be sure, but so, too, did fearlessness. Regardless of his ambitions or proclivities, Kylo knew better than to overlook the value of it.

It was then that Kylo noticed that Hux had left his Wiburian Hightail behind. Hux’s straw drew his attention, the little smudges of lipstick winking at him in warning. Kylo shook his head. Leave it to Hux to wear lipstick like warpaint.

Carefully, Kylo stood, grasped the bowl in both hands, and made his way towards the lifts.

* * *

“Set it there,” Hux said, pointing at a low table near the middle of his room. “Thank you for bringing it up.”

“You left it at the bar on purpose.”

“I did.”

Kylo worked his jaw. Hux hadn’t done anything ridiculous like get undressed, though he had removed his shoes and wig. Kylo stared at his own feet, damning Hux for making him feel awkward when it should have been the other way around.

“What?” Hux asked, voice flat.

“You’re drunk,” Kylo said, raising his eyes. Hux didn’t look impressed.

“So are you.”

“All the more reason we shouldn’t do this,” Kylo replied.

Hux stared, then shook his head. He muttered something under his breath, then made his way toward the bedroom, leaving Kylo standing by the door.

Hux’s suite was quite nice. There were two rooms—this opening sitting room, where Kylo stood, unsure what to do, and another, the bedroom. There had to be an adjacent washroom, if only because Kylo heard the sound of running water.

Kylo sat down on a low loveseat beside the bowl he’d brought up. It looked disgusting now; something scummy had settled on the top, and it had changed color while he hadn’t been looking, a dull slate grey where there once had been a vivid violet. Kylo looked to the ceiling. What was he doing?

As if reading his thoughts, Hux emerged from the bedroom, arms folded. He’d washed his makeup off, and Kylo realized just how much he’d had caked on. Before, he’d looked stunning, yes, but that wasn’t the point—the makeup had hidden how exhausted he looked.

“Well?” Hux asked. Kylo didn’t have anything to say. He resisted the urge to twiddle his thumbs. “If you’re not here to fuck, get out. I didn’t invite you up here to hold a philosophical debate.”

“Is that all you want?” Kylo asked. He kept the edge out of his voice. “You’ll regret this.”

“What else would I want?” Hux asked, voice rising in anger. “It isn’t up to you to say what I will and will not regret.”

Kylo stood, his head swaying at the sudden motion. Hux followed his movements with his eyes only, as alert and oriented as he could be given the amount he’d imbibed. Kylo approached slowly. He knew Hux wouldn’t run, but he also knew that Hux wasn’t quite himself at the moment. He could smell the alcohol on Hux’s breath as he grew closer.

He thought about it. He wanted it. He’d had thoughts—fleeting fantasies, nothing more—and this would put an end to it. Drunk fucks were, with the rare exception, terrible. Kylo would get it out of his system—get _Hux_ out of his system—and that would be it.

Hux would probably hate himself after. Stars knew he couldn’t hate Kylo any more than he already did.

Kylo shook his head to say _no_.

“Rest well, General,” he said simply.

Hux rolled his eyes and turned away without another word. Hurt and anger rolled off of him in waves. Kylo let the strong, sour emotions propel him back to the door and out into the night.

* * *

Kylo returned to the _Finalizer_ for lack of anywhere else to go. Wrangling a First Order transport back to the ship took minimal effort, and all he needed to do was turn a few heads the other direction and no one was the wiser that he’d left at all.

In his own quarters, he sat on the edge of his bed and shut his eyes. The hour was late, but he wasn’t tired. In fact, he wasn’t much of anything. He didn’t feel numb, just…empty. His encounter with Hux had left him feeling hollowed out, or maybe it was just the alcohol. Either way, he knew he was in for a long, long night and an even worse morning.

* * *

Hux didn’t mention Chandrila. When Kylo next saw him—not eight Chandrilan hours after Kylo had left him—Hux didn’t acknowledge him at all. He merely exited his transporter alone, nodding at the lieutenants who offered him crisp salutes as he passed. He didn’t have so much as a bag with him. Kylo wondered what had happened to the dress and the jewelry.

They settled back into their comfortable, caustic routine. Hux screamed at him. Kylo resisted the urge to throttle him, barely. They saw eye-to-eye on next to nothing except, perhaps, their shared belief that the Resistance needed to be utterly exterminated, no exceptions.

(Maybe one exception. Kylo’s guts twisted. Maybe one.)

Something had changed, though. Kylo noticed things he’d overlooked for years, like the constant dark circles under Hux’s eyes as they grew darker and darker around the persistently-red rims. He saw how stiffly Hux carried himself, a sharp contrast to the sensual swaying walk he’d employed on Chandrila. He saw, but he said nothing. It wasn’t his responsibility.

It might have remained that way had he not received a message on a disused datapad requesting “Matt”’s services. The requestor? None other than General Hux himself.

* * *

Kylo saw no reason to bother with a disguise. Hux made mistakes, sometimes incredibly costly ones, but Kylo doubted this was one of them. He wanted Kylo to come to him, ostensibly to repair some panel in his living quarters that had been damaged. Kylo, reluctantly, went.

When he arrived at Hux’s quarters, he rang the bell and folded his hands behind his back. When he’d first come to the _Finalizer_ , he’d requested override codes for every room in case of emergency—a request that had been approved for all but Hux’s personal suite. Hux had fought him harder on obtaining those permissions than for the shared co-commandership of the _Finalizer_ , and that was saying something.

Thankfully, Hux didn’t keep him waiting very long. Not long after Kylo rang to announce himself, he found the durasteel doors sliding open with the faintest hiss. Kylo stepped inside and stared.

It wasn’t Hux’s furniture that caught his attention, though he’d pay attention to that later. It wasn’t Hux, either. No, Kylo’s attention was drawn to a wall within Hux’s quarters. It had been slashed nearly to pieces. Had Kylo not known better, he might have thought it his own handiwork. The panel hung by little more than a couple of wires and sparked sadly. Slowly, Kylo looked from the panel to Hux.

“Ignore it,” Hux said. Kylo raised an eyebrow. “I wrecked it in case you decided not to show and I had to cover the request with someone else.”

Kylo glanced back at the panel, then back to Hux.

“What did you want?” Kylo asked.

Hux licked his lips. Kylo doubted he knew he’d done it. Hux had plenty of similar tics and tells.

“To talk,” Hux said. “Sit.”

Kylo balked at the imperative even as Hux moved towards the couch. That he had one at all did not surprise Kylo, but the color—a shockingly icy blue—drew his attention now that he’d taken in the panel. Hux sank into it, eyes fixed on Kylo. There was another seat—an armchair in a matching blue on the other side of a low oblong table—but Kylo made no move toward it.

“Suddenly interested in a philosophical debate?” Kylo asked, lacing his words with as much venom as he could muster on short notice.

Hux rubbed his eyes and grumbled, “You make things so much harder than they need to be.” Louder, he said, “Wait. Sit, if you please, or don’t. I wanted to—apologize.”

“For?” Kylo asked. Hux wouldn’t—possibly couldn’t—meet his eyes.

“I propositioned you whilst intoxicated and pressed the matter. I made you uncomfortable and put you in a bad situation,” Hux said, spitting the words as if they physically pained him. Perhaps they did. “My apologies.”

Kylo ducked his head. He’d been doing his best to forget Chandrila. Evidently, Hux had been dwelling on it.

“It was nothing,” Kylo said. “You were drunk and things hadn’t worked out the way you planned. You need not let it bother you.”

Hux opened his mouth then shut it with an audible _click_ as his teeth crashed into each other. Kylo was tempted to sift through the thoughts bubbling just at the surface of his mind to see what bothered him, then thought better of it. That he would have done it before without thinking didn’t occur to him.

“Right,” Hux said. “Right.”

“Was that all?” Kylo asked.

Hux stood abruptly.

“Yes,” he said. “That was it. You may leave.”

Something was off. Kylo couldn’t put his finger on it.

“General,” Kylo said. Hux stopped in his tracks, back half-turned to him.

“What?” Hux asked, voice clipped. He wasn’t afraid—nervous, perhaps. Nervous about what?

There was much he wanted to say. Instead, Kylo asked, “Would you like that panel fixed?”

* * *

Hux worked on the couch. At Kylo’s request, he’d silenced the alerts on his datapad. That he hadn’t fought Kylo on it seemed fortuitous, but maybe it may only have been because Kylo was up to his elbows in the destroyed panel that had him so amicable.

As “Matt”, Kylo had learned to fix these sorts of “accidents”. After all, he’d begun his little charade as a means of fixing the things he damaged when he lost control. It was, he figured, a sort of atonement. He would break nothing by accident during an emotional period that he could not fix. That which he broke intentionally deserved it.

Hux’s panel was no different from any of the others Kylo had worked on. He ordered the relevant parts from a droid, careful to ensure that no technicians came by to try to assist. He had no desire to explain his presence, and he didn’t need to wipe any more minds. The recollection of Davison’s memories slipping away still left him sick to his stomach. One day, he would overcome his squeamishness, but it was not that day.

Kylo worked carefully and soon lost himself in the task. Tinkering with things had a certain appeal to him. He’d taken great pleasure in disassembling and reassembling his lightsaber to suit his needs, and in making modification after modification to his private shuttle. It was a form of active meditation for him, one that had always been easier than the still, staid meditations he’d read about over the years. His mind quieted, and he felt himself relaxing even as he worked up a sweat.

It helped that Hux didn’t bother him. Kylo had expected him to make holocalls, or possibly misguided attempts at small talk, but he’d done neither. In fact, Kylo hardly heard him tapping on his datapad. Were it not for the sound of his breathing and the occasional sigh, he might have thought himself alone.

Hours later, Kylo stood. His thighs burned pleasantly from squatting for hours, and he stretched gratefully.

“Finished,” Kylo said. He turned his back on the panel, rapping his knuckles against the adjacent bit of durasteel to demonstrate. He need not have; Hux was already looking. He half rose from the sofa to examine Kylo’s work. The back of his neck was red, as were the tips of his ears. Had he had a drink? Kylo saw no evidence of it, nor had Hux left the sofa for the period of time Kylo had worked.

“Marvelous,” Hux said. “It’s as good as new.”

“It _is_ new,” Kylo said, somewhat petulantly. “I had to tear out most of the wiring. What did you use on it?”

The rest of Hux’s face went red.

“A prototype,” he said. “Nothing important. Thank you for fixing it.”

Kylo walked toward the sofa; Hux immediately dropped back down, his datapad atop his lap. Kylo looked at him long and hard. The redness of his ears didn’t dissipate.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.

“What?” Hux asked in return. His voice cracked. Kylo had never seen a face so red without the person in question choking to death.

“You’re flushed,” Kylo said. He approached, and Hux’s eyes widened. He drew back as if slapped, and Kylo stopped short.

“I’m fine,” Hux insisted. He didn’t sound fine. He sounded out of breath, his voice had cracked, and his pupils were immensely dilated. “Really.”

Kylo shrugged. He supposed it didn’t matter. He looked to his gloves, which had gotten dirty from the repairs. He’d have to get them cleaned to get the grease out.

“It’s a type of vibroblade,” Hux said all at once. Kylo jerked at the sudden sound of his voice, and it took him a few seconds to understand. Hux fidgeted. “The prototype,” he added unnecessarily, “is a type of vibroblade.”

“You found a vein of cortosis?” Kylo asked.

Hux shook his head as he replied, “No. I’ve been working with several other metals—vallite compounds for the most part. They have similar electronic properties, but there’s something missing.”

“It doesn’t repel a lightsaber,” Kylo said. Hux nodded. “Vallite has a different Force signature. The energy from the saber doesn’t interact the same way.” He looked to the datapad on Hux’s lap, and after a moment, he added, “If you show me the specifications, I might be able to assist in the development.”

Hux squinted at him and asked, “You’re not offended?”

“Should I be?”

“I’m trying to design a weapon that would go above and beyond your own,” Hux said slowly. “I thought that would offend your sensibilities.”

“No,” Kylo said. He looked to the armchair, remembering Hux’s earlier invitation. He doubted it had been rescinded, particularly since he’d gone to so much trouble to fix Hux’s wall. He took a seat. “I’m not offended.”

“But you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Kylo saw no reason to lie.

“Not particularly, no,” he said. Hux scowled. “Someone armed with a lightsaber also has the Force. Your soldiers can be armed to the teeth with vibroblades for all the good it will do them.” Hux’s frown deepened, and Kylo had several thoughts all at once. “This is the first I’m hearing about the designs. Have you sent out the reports yet?”

Hux’s blush deepened, and Kylo sat back.

“This is a personal project, then,” he murmured. “Not for the ‘troopers, but for yourself, just like the little thing you had on Chandrila.” Hux inhaled sharply, and Kylo sensed he was bracing to defend himself. He couldn’t help it. “I had never guessed you’d be one for close combat.”

“I’m not,” Hux said. He refused to break eye contact now; Kylo rather liked that about him. When Hux’s back was to a metaphorical wall, he kept fighting. “I simply haven’t gotten around to it.”

“It’s of no consequence to me,” Kylo said, “whether you keep it to yourself or not.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course not. What you do with your time is your business.” It wasn’t precisely true. Kylo felt no need to amend the statement. “Regardless, whatever you’ve built thus far has done a fair bit of damage at close range. These panels are hard to penetrate.”

“Not for you,” Hux said. The barb felt blunted; Hux meant it as a joke, however flat it had fallen.

“No,” Kylo said. He allowed himself a slight smile. “Not for me.”

Hux tapped his datapad several times, then turned it towards Kylo.

“Here,” he said. “Your eyes only, of course.”

Kylo accepted the datapad and found 3D holographic blueprints for the vibroblade in question. Hux walked the short distance of the room to a desk. From one of its drawers, he took a black rod—the vibroblade in its unextended form.

“Of course,” Kylo murmured. “Did you design this?”

“Yes.”

It was remarkable, really, particularly for one who knew nothing about the Force. Hux had the right idea for an adaptation of the blade. Now that Kylo looked at it, he thought it possible to make it a true vibroblade after all.

A short while later found them both on the couch, hunched over the blueprints and arguing about the appropriate orientation of the crystal structure of three-dimensional vallous quentarim in the blade. It was, Kylo thought, one of the best evenings he’d spent to date.

* * *

Days passed into weeks and months. Kylo found himself invited to Hux’s quarters on several occasions—not, thankfully, because Hux had destroyed anything, but simply to discuss shipwide matters. Petty Officer Blerr had made a fool of himself during negotiations with the Prime Minister of Sindar, and Hux sought Kylo’s opinion on how to best regain Sindar’s favor. Kylo called Hux’s attention to ST45-98 and KN33-90 following a successful operation in Hutt airspace, during which both ‘troopers demonstrated a remarkable ability to conduct fire-and-maneuver guerrilla attacks against a well-prepared mercenary force. They talked about weapons shipments, treaty negotiations, and, periodically, the whispered gossip that ever accompanied a large ship such as theirs.

Kylo enjoyed their talks more than he should have. Hux’s behavior toward him hadn’t changed, per se, but he made more of an effort to see Kylo’s point of view. When Yttriwan leaders implied that the Resistance might offer a better deal on weapons-grade azuli, Hux took Kylo’s advice to heart, and rather than firebombing the Yttriwan capital in a show of force, they went down together to negotiate a better settlement. That Kylo ended up killing the Yttriwan Prime Minister was something of an accident, but considering he was the only casualty, they both considered it a job well done. The First Order had the azuli it would need to construct a new series of light _Berserker_ -class fighters, and Yttriwa had several compelling reasons to keep the shipments coming.

Hux wasn’t the only one making concessions, either, though Kylo was loathe to admit it. Kylo slowly became one of Hux’s most vocal allies, particularly when it came to fighting with the old Imperials, those men who hadn’t been important or brave enough to die a hero’s death at the hands of the Rebellion.

Neither of them mentioned it, but the effects of their newly-unified front were obvious. Morale was high. Operations went off without a hitch with both Kylo and Hux at the helm. What Kylo could not accomplish, Hux could, and vice versa. They made a good team when they just _talked_ to each other. How had they not realized it before?

* * *

When Kylo had scrubbed the last of the dust of Oplunsk from himself following his most recent battle, he made his way to Hux’s quarters. The walk was neither long nor arduous, but Kylo’s feet moved like lead. It had been, he admitted, a long day.

The door opened almost before Kylo could knock. Hux gestured for him to come in, and Kylo took his seat in the armchair. Sitting felt so good, he had to close his eyes and bask in the feeling for a moment.

“Drink?” Hux asked.

Kylo considered the offer. Hux had a decanter of something light brown and still in his hands, and two glasses that might have been carved out of crystal. They glimmered in the artificial light, reflecting rainbows against the walls.

“Please, but not much,” Kylo said. He shifted to sit more upright. “I haven’t had anything to drink since…” He trailed off, embarrassed not only at the statement but to bring up what he suspected was something of a sore subject.

Hux made no immediate comment. He merely poured a finger for Kylo and a matching finger for himself, then settled back down on the couch. Hux frowned at his glass, and Kylo hesitated to take a sip.

“It’s funny,” Hux said finally, “I’ve been waiting for a suitable moment for this, and yet…”

“Yet?” Kylo asked. “We have more than cause to celebrate. You were right about Oplunsk’s defenses. Without that insight, we wouldn’t have carried the day.”

“Without you at the helm, the plan never would have worked,” Hux said, peering over his glass at Kylo. “I don’t mean that we lack cause to celebrate. It’s odd, is all.” He held the glass up to the light, and rainbows danced across his cheekbones. “I never thought I’d have someone to share something like this with, I suppose.”

Kylo nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. Hux licked his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Kylo asked.

“I—think we make a good pair, is all,” Hux said finally. He ran a thumb over the edge of his glass.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Kylo said.

Hux suddenly rose off of the couch. He set his glass down on the table between them and came to stand over him.

“Hux?” Kylo asked.

“I’m not drunk,” Hux said, “and neither are you.” Kylo tilted his head. Hux’s hands were balled into fists. Kylo wondered suddenly if this was all a ploy—surely Hux wouldn’t try to come at him bare-handed? Kylo’s mind was so addled by the sudden turn that he almost missed when Hux murmured, low and soft, “Armitage, you idiot.”

Kylo had no time to brace himself: Hux flew forward to straddle his lap. He kissed like a man dying, all brute pressure and no finesse. Their teeth crashed together painfully, and Kylo had a difficult time keeping his hand on his glass. He doubted Hux would be too pleased if he dropped it, just as he doubted he’d be able to fix it.

“Oh,” Kylo said as Hux pulled back, his face red to match his hair. _Oh_ indeed.

“Right,” Hux said. His voice betrayed no uncertainty, but his facial expression spoke volumes. “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time now. If it’s not of interest to you, please inform me now and I’ll never mention it again.”

Kylo set his glass down on the floor so that he could cradle Hux’s head in both hands. He felt fuzzy all over—giddy.

“I’m interested,” he said, and pulled Hux back in. He led Hux to a calmer kiss, one with less teeth and more tongue. Hux’s lips were chapped and not precisely pleasant, but he tasted like mint and honey, a combination Kylo had never liked until that moment. Hux all but melted against his chest, hands fisted in the fabric of his cowl as though he feared Kylo would disappear. Kylo couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at that moment, with Hux all around him in a way he’d never thought possible.

Hux leaned back away from Kylo then. He looked at him like he didn’t know what to do. Kylo let his hands fall to Hux’s waist. His palms seemed to burn. Hux’s bones may as well have been glass beneath his fingers. How easily he could break Hux, with or without the Force. He rested his thumbs against the jutting bones of Hux’s pelvis and rubbed softly. Hux hummed, low and deep in his throat.

Hux trusted that Kylo wouldn’t break him. Kylo thought he might shatter under the weight of the responsibility.

“To be clear,” Hux said, “when you turned me down on Chandrila, that had more to do with the alcohol than with me?”

As with their discussion about vibroblades, Kylo had to be honest.

“It came as a surprise,” he said. “It wasn’t unwelcome, just sudden.” After a moment, he added, “I thought you were drunk and wanted a bedwarmer.” He winced. “ _Do_ you just want a bedwarmer?”

Hux didn’t answer for a long few seconds. Before he did, he turned Kylo’s head up so he could look him in the eye. Hux’s expression had gone perfectly serious.

“It depends,” Hux said slowly. “I’m not averse to a—regular companion.”

“Significant other,” Kylo offered.

Hux nodded and said, “Quite.” He rubbed Kylo’s shoulders absently. “I—wouldn’t expect you to reciprocate. It doesn’t have to be anything.”

 _Maybe I’d like it to be something_ , Kylo thought. He surprised himself and ran his hands up and down Hux’s back to buy himself a bit of time.

“And if I’d like it to be something?” Kylo asked.

Hux’s pupils were blown, and Kylo could feel his cock hardening in his lap.

Impressively, Hux kept his voice steady as he said, “I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” Kylo said. “I want to try with you. I want…”

 _You, you_ , Kylo’s mind chanted. He gripped Hux’s hips tightly.

“I’m not very nice,” Hux murmured, low enough Kylo nearly missed it.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Kylo said. Hux snorted. “Neither am I.”

“Davison would have held your hand and gotten you flowers. I can try, but I’m—”

Kylo pulled his head off of his shoulder and brought their foreheads together.

“I want you to know,” he said, “that I’ve half a mind to go and find your ex-lover and kill him.”

“What for?”

“Whatever he did to upset you.” Hux was fully hard against him now. “For touching you, for—daring to do anything. He wasn’t good enough for you.”

“And you are?”

“We’ll find out.”

Hux sighed, his shoulders dropping.

“So we will,” he murmured. “I hope you know I don’t want to share you. I’m having a hard enough time as it is knowing that Davison came close to you.”

“Is that why you assigned him to oversee Sanitation?”

“Possibly.”

“Why, General, I had no idea you were possessive of things that aren’t even yours.”

“Could they be?” Hux asked. Kylo could hear the question underneath it as clearly as if Hux had said it out loud: _Could I be enough? You may wonder if you are enough for me, but am I enough for you? Could you be mine?_

“Yes,” Kylo murmured. He dug his fingers into Hux’s side, pulling him in flush—hard enough to grip, soft enough to caress. “Take care, though.”

“Oh?”

“Possession goes both ways.”

Hux grinned and ground down on him. Kylo had been so transfixed on Hux that he’d neglected his own growing arousal. The sudden pressure had static filling his ears and his vision tunneling down to just Hux.

“I’m counting on it,” Hux whispered. His fingers dug into Kylo’s chest. Kylo imagined they dug even deeper, down through the sinew and bone into the very heart of him.

Kylo kissed him, hard and messy. He was Hux’s, he already knew that, but now Hux was _his_.


End file.
